


Nice If We Were Right

by Werelibrarian



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel (Comics), Ms. Marvel (Comics), Spider-Gwen (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Eavesdropping, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 02:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7134731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werelibrarian/pseuds/Werelibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen Stacy has four best friends, three new teachers, two undesirable outcomes, and one truth to uncover. </p><p>She's Eunice Carter. She's Allan Pinkerton. She's Woodward and Bernstein rolled into one. She's a dog with a bone and she's willing to bend all the laws of god and nature to get some answers. </p><p>And then she has chemistry homework.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice If We Were Right

**Author's Note:**

> It started with a [ficlet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6618979/chapters/15145393)

Later, after the whole thing had blown up, Gwen Stacy would rather have capped her own knees than admit it wasn't her idea. But the truth is, it was stupid old Flash Thompson who started it.

"Hey, dude, look. Look," he smacked Jason on the arm, "think we're getting gay teachers?"

Gwen looked up from her phone. The early morning, pre-homeroom sun made it impossible for the camera to capture the perfect aqua shade of her new Chucks anyway.

Two men she'd never seen before were walking, arm in arm, towards the steps of the school. One was cutely round, with blonde hair so long it'd make her dad's eye twitch. He wore a pink shirt and chunky brown high-tops, and he was talking animatedly to the other one. The other one, Gwen could smell it from across the yard, was going to be trouble. His smile was wide and wicked, and he looked like he'd stepped out of an old movie. Black hair, black suit, white shirt, black shoes. Only his glasses had colour. Red. Gwen raised an eyebrow. Interesting.

Red Glasses had one hand tucked in the crook of Pinky's elbow and the other wrapped around the handle of a long white cane. When they got to the front door, Pinky reached up and straightened Glasses's tie, then he opened the door for him and they went in.

Surprisingly, Jason--who was about as nice to have around as the nyah-nyahing big-wheel girls in Lilo and Stitch, and served about the same social function--glared. "Haven't you seen a blind guy before?"

Flash blinked, startled by a response that wasn't agreement. "Huh?"

"My cousin's blind and he gets tired using his stick. You'd call him gay for hanging on to someone?"

Gwen almost felt sorry for Flash; his face was smacked-puppy confused. "Dude, what?" Then he rallied. "Sure, I mean, I seen loads of blind guys. But you think that was a _gay_ blind guy?"

Gwen facepalmed. It was a point of honour never to agree with Flash, but the possibility that Pinky and Glasses weren't paragons of heternormativity was certainly on the table here.

The homeroom bell sang out it's 1970s fart-buzz-fire alarm sound and the first day of junior year began. Flash and Jason argued all the way up across the yard, up the steps, and into the corridors. By the time Gwen's butt hit the plastic seat, not only was Glasses a one man pride parade, his pink-shirt-wearing buddy was too. Flash had never been good at logic.

Her homeroom teacher, Dr. Banner, was late. Again. Dr. Banner was late for everything, but he blew into the room in a cloud of paper like he'd been chased by the Witch King of Angmar between the photocopiers and here, and, well, that was always fun. Sometimes, when he was on a particularly good science tear, he'd ping the chalk into his--full--coffee cup. The unspoken job for people sitting in the front row was to scream if he then tried to drink it.

Dr. Banner's classroom door was still open, and Gwen could hear other homerooms starting across the hall.

"Good morning! I'm Mr. Nelson, and I'm new here at Coles Academic High School, and since you're all new freshmen, let me say hello, hello, and hello to you too. It's the first day so let's just take it easy. I'm going to take attendance, and then I've got locker assignments and class schedules to hand out."

Mr. Nelson's voice was sunny and smiling. Gwen put her money on Pinky. Glasses probably sounded like he gargled with whiskey and thumb-tacks.

"Sorry! Sorry I'm late!" Dr. Banner was clutching a small forest's worth of paper and his curly hair stuck up. "Oh, Gwen, hi!" He looked at her with eyebrows of surprise, as if he hadn't been her homeroom and also her chemistry teacher for the two previous years. She waved back, a little wanly. "Ok. Attendance!"

\--

Gwen had a best friend named Cindy Moon. She was--ever so slightly--an absolute weirdo, but some days, Gwen got out of bed only for the joy of seeing her.

Which is why it was totally unsurprising that it was the universe's plan to put Gwen's locker on the third floor and Cindy's in the basement.

"Ugh, you're next to the woodshops," Gwen noted as Cindy tried to make an expandable locker shelf sit level against buckled metal walls, "I hope you like eau de sawdust."

"I like the quiet," Cindy yelled over the unexpected roar of an industrial vacuum cleaner sucking up bits of woodshop mess. Gwen stuck her fingers in her ears. She could see Cindy's lips still moving but couldn't make out a word. Abruptly, the shopvac switched off.

"--THE CUTEST BUTT I'VE EVER SEEN," Cindy screamed in the sudden silence. The corridor was packed with people pulling lunchboxes out of their lockers and every single head turned to goggle at her. Slowly, Cindy pulled the collar of her red hoodie over her face.

Gwen grimaced in empathy and patted Cindy's shoulder. "And it's only the first day."

The lump inside the hoodie nodded.

Gwen tugged on the hem until Cindy's head popped out. "Come on, Moon Moon. Kamala's defending a patch on the bleachers for you."

Lunch Club consisted of Cindy, Kamala, Bruno, Kate, and Gwen. The first rule of Lunch Club was: bring lunch. Come on. It was in the name.

The second rule of Lunch Club was: bring intel. No matter how private and mysterious they claimed to want to be, everyone in highschool was bursting to share the secret goings-on in their lives, so long as the listener was sympathetic and nice. All it took was a nudge. And Gwen knew how to hide a nudge in something as innocuous as a hello.

The unspoken third rule was: never weaponize it. If you knew that, say, Zoe's college boyfriend had dumped her, it was a exilable offence to kick her while she was down or to tell someone who would. Observe and report for good, not evil.

In the past, Gwen worried that Lunch Club would set of a bomb without meaning to--out someone or spring a leak or spread a lie by accident, but whenever she looked at the faces of her friends, earnest and sweet, she knew that they'd never let it get out of control.

"You cut your hair!" Kamala bellowed when she clapped eyes on Gwen and Cindy.

Grinning and fluffing her new, chin-length 'do, Gwen waved. Kamala Khan had the very best smile in the whole school, and it was shining at full wattage at the top of the bleachers that ran along one side of the school's running track. Her gold high-tops were soft-shoeing on the bleacher seat, and her arms were waving wildly. Bruno Carrelli, Kamala's long-suffering comedy straight-man, tethered his flailing best friend by the jacket while seeming to ignore her completely in favour of his sandwich.

One clutch of students over, Nakia Bahadir turned and raised a hand in hello. She had big round sunglasses on, and with her hijab, she looked like she should be driving the streets of Monaco in a convertible in the 1940s. Gwen blew her a kiss.

"Hey Kamala, hey Bruno. We got a Kate today?"

"I think she's getting her face around," Bruno said, his mouth full of pastrami. Kate Bishop was a social chameleon with one foot in every clique and society going. Not in a scuzzy, fake sort of way, but in a "Monday: rich bitches, Tuesday: archery club, Wednesday: student council, Thursday: half-pipe kids, Friday: wildcard" sort of way.

It was easy to get frustrated with her but Gwen never did, because Kate's super power, other than being rich enough to pay other people to sleep _for_ her, was a hawk's eye for a person who needed attention. She seemed self-centred, but Gwen knew that no one kept tabs on their friends like Kate. It was even odds on whether you'd get let's-have-fun-Kate or pull-your-head-out-Kate, but she always knew which one you needed.

Just on cue, Gwen's phone played the opening riff to Pat Benetar's Hit Me With Your Best Shot. A text from Kate read: "2 new noses in trustfund crew. Ew. Every1 @ my place this wknd?"

"You guys busy this weekend? The first lady has a slot open," Gwen said, but she meant it jokingly. She knew that if she had as many commitments as Kate, she'd absolutely suck at keeping in touch. It'd happened before.

Another text. "O BTW, Nessa IN LURVE w/ new teach? wont shut up. NE1 got intel?"

Gwen texted back: "On it, report l8r." She propped her Chucks on the bench and threw an arm on the railing behind Cindy.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" She drawled at Bruno, who blushed. Kamala poked her in the side.

"Sorry, sorry. I just missed your face, Carrelli. Seriously though. I didn't see either of you all summer. What did you get up to?"

Gwen's lunch of macaroni and cheese had turned itself into a cold noodley brick since it was piping hot and delicious on yesterday's dinner table, but she forked gelatinous slices of it into her mouth while Bruno and Kamala caught her up. Kamala had done a student internship with Danvers Aviation and her brother had gotten married. Bruno had run himself ragged working at the Circle Q while shadowing a chemist at Stark Industries, helping invent some polysyllabic polymer that made Gwen's eyes cross with its complexity. Cindy matched their stories with one of fetching and carrying at the Daily Bugle, New York's biggest newspaper.

Gwen had just worked at the Dairy Queen all summer, and rehearsed with the Mary Janes in the evenings. But she grinned and felt her heart balloon at the brilliance of her friends, and watched the ever-present movie in her mind--the one of her telling people that she'd had the honour and the privilege of knowing Kamala, and Bruno, and Cindy, way back before they got famous, all the way out in Jersey City.

Kamala's face went a little bit sneaky. "Anyone see the new teachers?"

Bruno and Cindy hadn't, but Gwen raised her fork. "Pinky and Glasses? Yeah, I saw them come in this morning. Pretty cute, the pair of them."

Cindy laughed. "Pinky and Glasses?"

"I spied 'em across the front yard, so sue me. I think one of them's called Nelson."

Cindy and Kamala frowned in unison, and reached for their backpacks. "Nelson, like, teaching English first block tomorrow, Nelson?" Cindy asked. Kamala nodded, holding up her course schedule.

Gwen grabbed at the flimsy slip of paper. "F. Nelson. Huh. I got ole man Cage for English, but I had it this morning. Oh hey, we've got Law together!"

Bruno scratched his head. "Yeah, I've got Law too. Anyone know why it's absolutely in outer space?" He pointed to the room number next to the line "Law 12, M. Murdock." Gwen strained to find room 489M on her mental map of the school.

"Is that behind the drama studio?" Cindy asked. From the outside, Coles looked perfectly square and orderly, but secret mazes and floors-between-floors held classrooms that threw the numbering system completely to hell. In her freshman year, Gwen had been late for social studies for a month because she could never remember that room 252 wasn't actually next to room 250, but rather behind room 320 and down a flight of stairs.

"I think," Kamala hedged, "it's above the library."

Everyone screwed up their faces. The library, like the drama studio and the auditorium, hung suspended in the school like bits of fruit in a jello mold, their double-high ceilings and raked floors refusing to meet up with the rest of the school's layout. No one wanted classes in the rabbit warrens that encircled them--they were so twisty and convoluted that going back to your locker for textbooks or for socializing was impossible, but they were great places to nap because the the teachers hated them too. The classrooms were usually just used for storage.

"Ugh," grunted Bruno. "New teacher gets the crappy room?"

"Huh. I wonder if Murdock is the guy with the glasses," Gwen mused. Murdock and Nelson, new fish in her little pond. The bell rang and everyone shoved the last of their food in their mouths or garbage into their pockets. "Guess we'll find out later," said Gwen, her mouth full. "See you last block."

\--

Gwen, Kamala, and Bruno beat the bell to room 489M by three-quarters of a second, and the instant they set foot inside, Gwen's stomach dropped. Glasses _was_ Mr. Murdock, and he looked terrifying up close.

Sheepishly, they sat down and watched as people with even less-developed navigational skills skidded into class, some panting out apologies. Every single one of them, even the boys, drew up short at the sight of Mr. Murdock, and Gwen didn't blame them.

He slouched against the window with his arms crossed, and the blankness of his red-lensed glasses was as good as a glare. His mouth was a restrained, almost clenched, slash on a pale face, and the colourless Agent Smith getup wasn't really helping in the cuddly department either.

He unfurled off the window ledge and pointed generally in the direction of the desk nearest the door. "Close the door, please." Gwen had been right about his voice: gravel and moonshine.

Eyes wide, the brown haired kid he'd pointed at all but fell out of his desk to shut the door.

Mr. Murdock trailed his fingers along the filing cabinet and desk as he walked past them, and stood in front of the class with his hands in his pockets.

"Good afternoon. Welcome to Law 12. My name is Mr. Murdock, and I'm blind." The class murmured, and Mr. Murdock held up a hand. "Quiet, please. This is not going to be a special class because of me. We're going to get through the same amount of material--or more-- as any other senior elective, and if you can work with me and work with my lack of sight, you are going to be the best-prepped college freshmen in a year or two." Gwen shot an incredulous look at Bruno, who shrugged back. "First things first: I won't see raised hands. If you have a question, tap your desk and say your name."

At the end of Mr. Murdock's spiel, Gwen's eyes were wide not in confusion but surprised admiration and a strange sense of determination. Law was about argument, he said, and it was the art of grabbing information on the fly and making it work for you. There would be no handouts, no powerpoint presentations. He was going to talk and they were going to take notes. Just like law school, apparently. If they couldn't keep up, tape recorders could be used. They would have one final paper at the end of class, but everything else was going to be graded by debate or oral presentation.

Behind Gwen, Kamala slunk down in her seat. She hated standing up in front of class.

"Alright, any questions?"

One question was bubbling up Gwen's throat. She wasn't a goody-goody but she was genuinely curious how Mr. Murdock thought he was going to keep some of them under control. She sneaked a glance at the students around her and knew that good behaviour borne either out of compassion or wide-eyed whatthefuckery was going to dry up in a few weeks. And because she wasn't a hypocrite, she counted herself in that group.

In the back, Josh was turned all the way around and whispering to Zoe, who kept darting nervous looks at his face, then at Mr. Murdock, and back again.

"No questions? Ok, before I take attendance, I have one." Mr. Murdock felt his way to his desk, opened a drawer and pulled out--Gwen blinked--a beanie baby. A rainbow unicorn with a sparkly horn, to be precise. The styrofoam beads inside its soft body rustled as he plumped it between his fingers. He tossed it up and down, and it was eerie how he didn't have to follow it with his eyes.

"Given that I've been completely blind since childhood and that I somehow made it through both Columbia's Education program and two placements in Hell's Kitchen," the unicorn sailed, up, up, over their heads, and landed on Josh's desk with a _plop_. Josh screamed a little and whipped around, "how good do you think my hearing is?"

There was a full five seconds of silence as everyone goggled at the rainbow unicorn, splay-legged and smiling a little embroidered smile.

The classroom burst into applause.

Mr. Murdock grinned, and it was that devious one from earlier that morning. Kamala muttered something bewildered and lovestruck in Urdu, and Gwen felt herself smiling back at him without even deciding to. That was one dangerous face.

\--

After class, Gwen put her headphones on and pillowed her head on a jacket laid in the bottom of her locker. Within a few days her little metal home would be crammed with textbooks and gym strip and random crap that she'd pull out in the last days of June and make "what even _are_ you" faces at. But right now it was full only of potential and also her head. She stretched her legs out in the empty corridor, laced her fingers over her stomach, and tuned into the kings of emo, The Uncanny X-Men.

Given that her entire head was in her locker and Scott Summers was wailing right into the centre of her brain, there was no reason she should have clocked Mr. Murdock's cane lightly tap tap tapping down the hallway, but something made her lift her head. She peered at him sauntering--yes, definitely a saunter with _those_ hips--down the steps from the rabbit warren of the upper 400 rooms, past Dr. Banner's classroom, coming to a stop outside Mr. Nelson's door.

Gwen considered scrambling up--most teachers would have told her not to lie down on the school floor--but Glasses wasn't most teachers. She stayed put, ready to fake sleep if he figured out she was there. Discreetly, she yanked out the headphone jack, silencing Remy LeBeau mid-whine. Glasses knocked on the door.

"Mr. Nelson, this is the school board. We're here to revoke your teaching licence," he said.

"Just a second, let me get my pants on," Mr. Nelson's voice floated out. Gwen liked Pinky a lot. The door opened and Mr. Murdock stepped in.

Gwen put her head back and poked at her phone. She was waiting for Kamala to finish a science club meeting, then they were going to go sneak some Starbucks to Bruno at the Circle Q. They loved him too much to let him drink the stuff brewed in the store.

After a few seconds of peaceful, relaxing screaming, a thump and a giggle from inside Mr. Nelson's classroom made Gwen whip the headphones off.

"Did Judge McSparkles bring you good luck?" Mr. Nelson's voice was slightly tinny, as if through a bad phone line. Gwen pressed her ear to the locker wall, and it became clear as if she were in the room with him.

"I had to throw him at three of my students," Mr. Murdock chuckled. He was slightly harder to make out. Maybe something to do with bass vibrations and whatever metal Gwen's locker was made of.

"Really? Shitheads," Pinky muttered, "did it work though?" There was silence, and Gwen guessed Glasses's face was doing something schadenfreude-y, because Pinky whooped, "Matt Murdock, the teacher with whom you do not screw!"

More silence. Gwen strained and flattened herself against the metal, but there was nothing to make out. That was weird. They didn't seem like people that would sit in awkward silence; they sounded like Kamala and Bruno, or her and Cindy--best friends, never at a loss as to what to say. Maybe they were sitting in companionable silence, proud of themselves and their first day at Coles.

When he spoke again, Mr. Murdock's voice was even lower than before. "What do you want to do for dinner?" 

"Agh, I don't know. There's nothing in my fridge because I spent all last week eating chips and stressing for today. I might have moldy cheese. Did you--you know what, I'm not even going to ask if you shopped for food." Pinky's voice was fond. Glasses chuckled again, a little guiltily. Gwen's eyebrows quirked up.

"Thai?"

"Yes. Oh god. All the curry."

"That's a lot of curry, Foggy." Gwen's eyebrows went even higher. _Foggy_? That was adorable. She couldn't wait to tell Cindy.

"I deserve it. Let me tell you how hard I had to tap-dance for my freshmen. Fifty-five terrified eyeballs staring at me like they were the first class asked to read a novel by a black woman in the history of the world."

"So what you're saying is, you're having all the curry."

"Absolutely all of it. You'll have to content yourself with pad thai because I deserve even your curry."

Unlike his speaking voice, Mr. Murdock's laugh was a little squeaky, and Gwen was immediately charmed. "Sure, Foggy, whatever you say. Wait. Fifty-five?"

"Hmm?"

"You said fifty-five terrified eyeballs. Is one of your students Principal Fury?"

"I got a kid with a lazy eye. She's just like you though."

"My eyes are not lazy." Huffy, but smiling underneath.

"No shit. Not showing up for work in twenty years is a titch more than just lazy. What I meant was: she should be on the cover of National Geographic. Her eyes are gorgeous, but they don't work very well. Just like yours."

Gwen, sprawled on the ground and wedged in a locker, silently went "aww."

When Glasses spoke again, his voice was rough. From repressed laughter or something else, Gwen wasn't sure. "Ok, you can have my pad thai too."

Pinky laughed, long and lusty, and then there was a sound of a smacking kiss.

"Excellent. My plan is coming together. Today, Matt's dinner; tomorrow, the world!" Pinky crowed, "come on, let's go get your stuff."

As quietly as she could, Gwen jumped up, closed her locker, and hightailed it into the far stairwell. She peeked one eye around the corner, and saw them step out of the classroom. Nelson had a leather satchel slung over his shoulder and his keys in his hand. Murdock had his suit jacket off and his tie loosened and Gwen longed for the camera in her phone, which was lying in a tangle of headphone cord in the bottom of her locker. Kamala'd give her kidney to see this. Possibly, she'd give Bruno's kidney. Mr. Murdock's shoulders were eminently nommable, and his torso had a certain washboardiness to it that not even a dress shirt could hide. Gwen had a horrible feeling he looked like an Abercrombie and Fitch model under all that modest cotton, and when he took Pinky's arm and turned around, showing off a rear end you could hang a painting on, Gwen actually heard static for a second.

She watched him climb the steps to the 400 hallway, her eyes round and drying out in their sockets.

Damn. _Get it_ , Pinky.

When they were out of sight, and out of hearing--she hoped--Gwen raced back to her locker and rescued her phone.

"HAVE INTEL," she texted Kate, capitalizing painstakingly, "SO MUCH, OMG."

Feeling slightly winded, Gwen lay back on her locker pillow. She needed a nap before re-enacting it all for Kamala.

\--

"Not screwing," Bruno opened.

"Screwing," Gwen countered.

" _Teachers_ ," stated Kate, her face judgemental, "ergo: junkless."

"Get eyes on Murdock, and then draw conclusions on the existence of junk,” Gwen pointed at her, "remember what Nessa said?"

"Nessa could fall in love with a slurpee machine," Kate sniffed, but she looked uncertain, "that cute?"

On Saturday afternoon, Lunch Club lay over the expensive, elegant furniture of Kate's father's Jersey City house, doing their best impression of mushrooms growing on a log. Kate had classes with neither Nelson nor Murdock, and had rolled her eyes so hard at Gwen and Bruno's disagreement over the new teachers' boinking status she probably caught a glimpse of her own brain stem.

"He's okay," Kamala said with artful no-big-dealness, her head flung back over the arm of Kate's sofa. Bruno looked put out but stuck his nose in his coffee cup and said nothing.

"Like Jonathan Groff cute or like Terry Crews cute?"

Kamala wrinkled her nose, considering. "Neither. More like…"

"Like Gregory Peck cute." Four incredulous stares swung to Bruno. "What? I have eyes!"

In a voice that was choked with casualness, Cindy asked, "Twelve O'Clock High Gregory Peck or To Kill A Mockingbird Gregory Peck?" The grin that broke over Bruno's face was something that Gwen got to see all too rarely, and he lifted his hand for Cindy to high-five.

"Yeah, secret film nerd! And, he's more like Roman Holiday Gregory Peck."

Cindy slapped his hand. "Does that make Mr. Nelson the princess?"

Gwen coughed an "oh, does it" into her mug.

Bruno glared. "Two guys can be just friends," he said.

Cindy shrugged. "They say you should always marry your best friend."

Kamala choked.

Kate rolled her eyes again. "Debatable."

"Why do you care so much, anyway?" Bruno asked.

Gwen shrugged. "I just want to know." Bruno glanced up as if praying for strength from the ceiling cat, and muttered darkly in Italian.

Gwen poked him with a sneaker. "Come on, you want to know too, I know you do," she cajoled.

"You owe me so much coffee," he mumbled.

"You're on. But only if I'm wrong and they're _not_ boyfriends," she said, triumphantly. Bruno nodded, then buried his face in his hands because he knew Gwen too well.

"You know what this means?" Gwen grinned, and the way that Cindy's face fell told her it wasn't one of her nice ones, "this means recon."

\--

**From: Gwen**

Lunch club, whats your location?

 

**From: Cindy**

around corner from JB's room. Watchging eli's locker

 

**From: Kamala**

Stairwell. I have eyes on Pinky's door.

 

**From: Bruno**

who's JB?!

 

**From: Cindy**

joe bradley

 

**From: Gwen**

who

 

**From: Cindy**

g peck in Roman holdiay!

 

**From: Kamala**

pinky on the mOve!!!!!!

 

**From: Gwen**

Don't panic! Cindy, ding us when Pinky's in JB's room.

 

**From: Cindy**

…

…

d

wait

…

Ding

 

**From: Gwen**

Tenderloin at Eli's locker!

 

**From: Gwen**

Fuck I mean render boys

 

**From: Gwen**

R e n d e z v o u s !!!

Jesus christ.

 

**From: Kate**

yeah, all here already. waitin 4 u 2 finish autocorrecting.

\--

Four dark heads were bent around Eli Bradley's open locker, listening. Eli, leaning on the wall and peering at them bemusedly, nodded at Gwen when he saw her--his face said: of course _you're_ involved in this, which was completely undeserved in her opinion. Gwen pulled at Kate's shoulder, and whispered, "what've we got?"

Kate levelled a flat look at her. "Nelson's having capital-T thoughts about The Duchess of Malfi," she said, "and Murdock's making the noises my dad makes when my stepmother talks about garden parties."

Gwen knelt down and shoved her head into Eli's locker, batting a scarf out of her face. After a few seconds, she rolled her eyes. Grown ups could be so boring. Blah blah Pinky's mother called. Blah blah lunch on Sunday. Blah blah Uncle Gerald is going to be there--no, he's not any less awful so just avoid him. Blah blah something about quiche.

"Are you guys going to be at this for much longer?" Eli asked. Gwen shushed him. "Hey, don't shush me. Look, mi casa and all that, but it's just that I have to see my history teacher and she said sort of right now and--"

"Well, they definitely sound married," whispered Kate.

"They're so cute," cooed Kamala.

"I'm uncomfortable with this," Bruno muttered.

"Then get your head out so I can hear better," whispered Cindy.

"I'm not scared of your uncle, Foggy," JB said, and Gwen flapped her arms until they all shut up, "I've met much worse."

Pinky sighed. "I know. I just wish that he'd--I mean you're not going anywhere--" 

"I bet I could make you forget all about it," JB said, so suggestively that Gwen wished she had pearls so she could clutch them, "give you something else to worry about."

"Why, Mr. Murdock, are you being improper in the workplace?"

"I can't help it, Mr. Nelson, you know what the smell of chalk dust does for me."

"And here I thought I knew all of your kinks."

Oh god, thought Gwen, they're going to do it. We're going to hear them do it. One of them hummed happily, and it was all too clear in Gwen's mind. JB crowding an unresisting Pinky against a desk, pushing him flat and kissing the breath out of him. Panicky, she looked up at her friends' faces. Kamala and Cindy looked delighted. Kate looked a little sick. Bruno looked on the verge of a heart attack.

"What is it?" Eli hissed, "what do you hear? Your faces all went funny."

Suddenly, Bruno fisted the back her collar and whisper-shouted, "oh my god!"

Gwen reared back in surprise and knocked down the rest of the eavesdroppers like startled, swearing bowling pins. Eli scrambled to help her up.

"Spleen!" gasped Cindy, from the bottom of the pile.

The door flew open, and Mr. Nelson tumbled into the hallway. Mr. Murdock's head poked out after him. “Who's hurt?"

"No one!" cried Gwen hastily. Bruno eased the locker door shut behind his back.

"Miss Moon, Miss Khan," said Mr. Nelson, eyes narrow. The "I order you to spill your guts" was silent but everyone still heard it. Why had she thought that Murdock was going to be the scary one? Gwen glanced at Eli, pleading for his silence.

"Mr. Nelson," Cindy and Kamala mumbled, in unison. Cindy was still flat on the ground.

"What's going on?" Behind Mr. Nelson, Mr. Murdock crossed his arms.

"Bruno, what the fuck!" Gwen hissed under her breath as Pinky, clearly trained in interrogation, put the screws to the two of them most likely to crack.

"Sorry!" he hissed back. "I thought I heard a belt buckle!"

"You're so squeamish," she harrumphed.

"It was my fault, Mr. Nelson." All eyes swung to Eli. "I was teasing Gwen, and she grabbed my football jacket," he held it out as if to say, _if it please the court to recognize exhibit A._

"We were sort of playing tug of war, and I let go and Gwen knocked down...everyone."

"And you are?"

"Elijah Bradley. Junior." Gwen smiled at him. Eli was a jock, but he was a good guy, and he always spoke softly, like the gentlest soldier in the platoon, the one who probably had a kitten in his vest pouch.

"And no one's hurt?" Pinky cast a scrutinizing eye over them. They all shook their heads. "They're shaking no, Mr. Murdock."

"Thank you, Mr. Nelson," JB said, with a fond smile. Kamala delightedly clasped her hands together in front of her heart but dropped them when Kate kicked her ankle.

"Eli, are you up here?" someone interrupted. Seven heads swivelled towards the new voice, coming up the stairs. JB tilted his head like a dog.

It was a teacher that Gwen hadn't seen before. She was tall. Like almost Brienne of Tarth tall, and her blouse had bluebells on it. The terrified brown haired boy from Gwen's Law class peered out from behind her.

"I told you I had a thing," Eli muttered to Gwen.

"Oh, you must be the new history teacher!" Pinky put out his hand. "I'm Mr. Nelson, and this is Mr. Murdock."

"Karen. Ms. Page."

Weirdly, when JB shook Ms. Page's hand, he went pink. "Hello."

"You're also new this year, aren't you?" 

"Yes. Is this your first teaching job?"

"No, I've bounced around, but I think I'm settled now. I'm taking over for Mr. Lang," she said. Mr. Lang had broken his leg falling down a flight of stairs the fourth day of class, "we were in the same education program, and actually, he said I should introduce myself to the other new teachers, so I'm glad I found you."

"How is he?" asked JB. The six students--seven including the scared kid from Law--watched the three teachers like they were at a tennis match. Gwen wondered if they could do a slow fade while the three of them talked. Just Bilbo Baggins their asses out of the picture.

Ms. Page laughed. "He thinks I'm going to let him quarterback my classes from the hospital, and he keeps acting out lesson plans with the things on his food tray. I'm a little worried about the amount of painkillers he's on. " She winked conspiratorially, and Pinky's eyes went a little starry.

"No, Mr. Lang's always like that", said Kate.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need Mr. Bradley for a quick second."

"You know, you have a beautiful voice," said Mr. Murdock, then looked like he wished he could snatch the words out of the air. Pinky whipped around and stared, incredulous, at the side of JB's head while said head went from blushing pink to red as a baboon's ass. 

Ms. Page blinked at Mr. Murdock, glanced at Mr. Nelson’s jaw currently hanging down at his knees, and blushed too.

"Oh. Um," she cleared her throat, "Eli, can we meet with the rest of your project group now, or do you need more time?"

Eli looked at Mr. Nelson, who waved him off. When Eli had trotted off after Ms. Page, Mr. Murdock said, "ok, time to go home, the rest of you," and retreated to his classroom. Gwen sliced her hand through the air for quiet, and pressed her ear to the door.

"Matt, what the heck?"

"Oh god," JB moaned, "I didn't mean it."

"Buddy, I've got a B.Ed and _several_ advanced degrees in Murdockian bullhockey, and I think you can tell I'm trying not to swear at work." Mr. Nelson didn't sound angry, just confused, "try again."

"No, I'm not--” a huge, defeated sigh, “she smelled of jasmine."

Pinky chuckled, and something in Gwen’s chest loosened a little. "You caught that, huh? She's really tall, too. Hair like a sunrise." Gwen didn't have a lot of experience dating, but she was sure that boyfriends weren't supposed be quite so chill about each others' tomcatting. Was Mr. Nelson mocking his partner? Or was he encouraging his friend?

"Oh no," said JB, fake-serious, "she's just my type."

"Everyone's your type," Pinky said, sounding friendly, not jealous, "It's your number one failing. It's definitely in the top five." 

"You like me anyway," JB teased.

"It's my number one failing," sighed Pinky, "well, top five."

Gwen was learning to dread the long pauses in Murdock and Nelson's conversations, mostly because she’d had access to too many trashy romance novels from too young an age and now she had a very vivid imagination. Either they were kissing again or Nelson was straight up _strangling_ his boyfriend for flirting with someone else and then being a little shit about it. Or were they just packing up on an average school day because Mr. Murdock _wasn't_ seeing Mr. Nelson and had every right to flirt with other teachers? Well. "Every right" might be an overstatement. It was a school after all, not dollar shots night at the Boom Boom Room.

She strained to hear evidence one way or another--the clink of a belt buckle like Bruno had hallucinated, or maybe manly, back-slapping talk about Ms. Page's pretty hair, or even the sound of JB's tongue being squeezed purple in his philandering mouth. But it was perfectly, frustratingly, silent.

**Author's Note:**

> Nonsense happens on [tumblr](http://werelibrarian.tumblr.com)


End file.
